


Raise your arms and hold

by danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejigsawtimess/pseuds/danfanciesphil
Summary: Phil's only requirement for a new flat was a balcony. The view was just a bonus.





	Raise your arms and hold

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Balconies by Paper Route. I highly recommend giving it a listen before/after/during your read!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: danfanciesphil.tumblr.com
> 
> Dedicated to my true love, Nova, who was in hospital and requested a cute phan au where they have balconies facing each other. Can you tell it got away from me...  
> ily nova <3

In truth, the apartment was nothing spectacular.

 

It had been Phil’s third flat viewing that day, and by the time the Estate Agent ushered him inside, he was already weary of climbing stairwells to view tiny, cramped living spaces that he still could barely afford.

 

The types of places in Phil’s modest budget were all fairly similar in appearance, so Phil kind of knew what to expect when he stepped into this one. It was a studio, with a bed at one end and a kitchen at the other. There was a small bathroom near the door, with just about enough room for a shower, toilet and sink.

 

It did have a balcony, though.

 

Phil had stressed his desire for this one feature as strongly as he could to Julie, his Estate Agent, when he’d first spoken with her. She’d given him the usual spiel about how it would be unlikely that he’d find a place within his price range, in South London, with an outdoor space. But Phil had just waved her cautions away, and told her to do the best she could.

 

“It meets your specifications, you’ll notice,” Julie remarked as she showed him this third place, chuckling politely as she pulled open the two white, flaking wooden doors to the outside.

 

The balcony itself was nothing grand, obviously. Phil stepped out onto it, hands in his pockets, breathing in deeply. A black iron railing ran around the edge of the small space, which jutted out about four feet from the door. It would be just enough to squeeze a chair in, Phil thought, peering over the edge of the railing to the narrow alleyway below.

 

It was plenty of space for what he planned to do with it, though. He could overlook the chair perhaps, in favour of creating more space for his other projects.

 

In terms of a view, this place didn’t have one. The balcony looked out onto the building opposite, which was virtually a mirror of the one in which Phil stood. There was an apartment directly opposite his own, in fact, with its own balcony jutting almost absurdly close to the one Phil was looking out from.

 

A strange mental image popped into Phil’s mind; sipping tea, out here on his balcony as a crotchety neighbour glared at him from a few metres away. The opposing balcony was probably close enough, Phil reckoned, that he could leap across to it if he suspended all fear of falling to the concrete below.

 

“So, what do you think?” Julie asked, shuffling into the small space beside Phil on the balcony.

 

“Do you know who lives there?” Phil asked her, pointing to the flat opposite. The windows were dark, their curtains pulled shut.

 

There was a sliver of the interior visible through the gap between the person’s curtains, but aside from what looked like a piano covered in a mess of papers and mugs, it was hard to make out anything distinct.

 

Julie looked at Phil strangely. “I’m afraid not.”

 

Phil nodded, looking pensive as he continued to stare out. On balance, this flat was probably the nicest one he’d seen yet, if only because it had the one thing he truly wanted. Sure, it was a little over a fifteen minute walk to the tube station, and the stairwell had some garish, flickering fluorescents that would probably become a nuisance. But in all honesty, Phil was tired of looking. He just wanted to sign a lease, and move his stuff into a permanent place so he could finally get off his brother’s couch.

 

“Okay,” he told Julie after a minute of silent deliberation. “I’ll take it.”

 

As he shook Julie’s hand, sealing the deal, he could have sworn he noticed the curtain in the opposite apartment twitch.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take Phil long to move in. He didn’t have a lot of stuff, what with it being just him, so the whole operation took under an hour. Martyn, Phil’s brother, came along to help, but in the end he ended up just providing some company while Phil unpacked his few possessions and placed them around his new home.

 

“You’re gonna freeze to death in here if you keep those open,” Martyn told him, nodding to the balcony doors, which Phil had opened wide the moment he first stepped in.

 

Phil shrugged, not minding in the slightest. “I like them open. It’s less confining.”

 

Martyn rolled his eyes at him, but didn’t argue. They went to a nearby diner after the last box had been unpacked, grabbing a quick meal. After that, Martyn said his goodbyes, gave Phil a good luck squeeze, and headed back home.

 

Phil trekked back up the stairs of his new apartment building, sighing at the flickering light overhead. He unlocked the door of his new flat, and shut it behind him, feeling the world fall away.

 

Caught in a moment of deliberation over what to do with himself for the rest of the night, he walked out onto the balcony, letting the dwindling dusk settle around him as he leaned his forearms against the railing. As he tilted his head upwards, he was pleasantly surprised to find a star-speckled sky painted behind the blockish buildings crowding the immediate vicinity. Phil smiled to himself, feeling the evening chill prickle at his bare arms, rippling goosebumps over his pale skin.

 

“Uh, hi.”

 

Phil jumped in surprise, having thought he was alone.

 

For the first time, he noticed a figure on the balcony opposite, hunched in a camping chair in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest like a woodlouse.

 

Phil stared at this figure for a moment, trying to make sense of him. Belatedly, he remembered social etiquette.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Sorry,” the boy said, looking awkward. “You didn’t notice me here, and… I thought it’d be weirder if I didn’t draw attention to myself before you did notice… or something.”

 

Phil huffed a laugh. “Fair enough.”

 

“Have you just moved in?” The boy asked. He unfurled himself from the camping chair, revealing a lanky body - all limbs and sharp, angular lines - as he stood up.

 

His oversized stripey jumper slipped off one shoulder as he stepped towards the railing. Phil’s eyes fell to the exposed skin without meaning to.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, a little stunned by the sight of a young, attractive boy his age in place of the ancient, grumpy neighbour he’d imagined living across from him.

 

As the boy neared him, the unmistakeable smell of weed floated across the gap between their balconies, curling around Phil’s senses like the ghostly fingers of a long lost friend.

 

Phil’s eyes fell to the fingers of the boy’s left hand, which he now saw held a small, thinly rolled joint between them.

 

“I’m Dan.” The boy told him, taking a drag from it. “Sorry for scaring you.”

 

Phil regarded him curiously, trying to make him out in the low light. Certain features were more visible than others. The moonlight glinted off the whites of his eyes, yet the colour of them was lost to shadow, transforming his pupils into two black holes. His hair was tousled, curly even, in an unkempt, natural way. Again however, the colour could have ranged from onyx to bright blue for all Phil could see.

 

It was obvious that this boy was very pretty, at least. The vermillion glow of the end of his joint drew Phil’s attention to Dan’s mouth, and he tried to imagine the smoke rushing into Dan’s lungs, the drug massaging Dan’s mind, warming him from the inside out.

 

“I’m Phil.”

 

Dan nodded, then plucked the joint from his lips, holding it out over the railing, towards Phil.

 

“Want some?”

 

Phil wasn’t sure why he leant over to accept the joint from Dan’s hand. He hadn’t smoked since his second year of university, and had never been particularly enamoured with the stuff anyway.

 

He didn’t mind the occasional drag on a joint at parties, but generally Phil preferred to be alert, finding he worked better that way. His productivity levels had never been positively affected by cannabis.

 

Nevertheless, he found himself drawing deeply on the joint Dan gave him, eyes closing as the nostalgia of inhaling the drug washed through his body. He blew it out slowly, watching the smoke spiral away from his lips, up into the darkening ink spill of the night sky.

 

“Thanks,” Phil said, leaning out in order to pass the joint back to Dan.

 

“Sure,” Dan replied. A few seconds of silence passed; Phil closed his eyes, relishing the waves of blissful relaxation as they lapped over his skin. “I’m not a stoner, by the way.”

 

Phil’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled at Dan, saying nothing.

 

“I just…” Dan sighed, smoke billowing from his lips. “I need a break sometimes.”

 

“From?”

 

Dan shrugged, twiddling what was left of the joint between his fingers. “Life.”

 

Phil nodded, gazing up at the stars again. “I get that.”

 

Again, a silence fell between them.

 

“Are you living here on your own?” Dan asked after a while.

 

“Yeah,” Phil replied. “And you?”

 

Dan nodded, though a frown pulled down the corners of his mouth. He took another drag.

 

“I should go inside.” Phil sighed, feeling sleepy all of a sudden.

 

“Oh,” Dan said, sounding disappointed. “Okay. See you around then.”

 

“It was nice to meet you.” Phil told him sincerely, turning to go. “I expect you’ll see lots of me out here.”

 

Dan smiled, stubbing the joint out on the railing. “Cool.”

 

Phil stepped back to the open doors, intending to go and collapse on his bare mattress and succumb to cannabis-induced slumber. Just before he got inside, he turned back to Dan, smiling.

 

“Julie should have put you in the listing for this place.”

 

Dan snorted with laughter. “What, that there’s a dude who’ll give you free drugs if you move in?”

 

Phil laughed, shaking his head. “No. But it would’ve been a nice feature to include - that there’s a mysterious, pretty boy on the balcony opposite.” Phil smiled at him, watching Dan’s eyes widen in surprise. “I was on the verge of saying no to this place. But that would’ve persuaded me.”

 

Dan just looked at him, clearly at a loss for what to say. The expression on his face was one of such bemusement that Phil instinctively knew he’d wake up in the morning regretting his words. For now however, he just chuckled, waved once, and stepped off the balcony, back into his new flat.

 

*

 

It was around a week before Phil saw Dan again.

 

He kept an eye out for him, watching the doors of the balcony opposite for any signs of movement. They stayed firmly closed however, to Phil’s disappointment. Once, he thought he might be able to hear piano music filtering in through his own open doors, but he couldn’t tell if it was coming from Dan’s apartment or not; the curtains were all firmly drawn.

 

He became used to the commute to his lab on the tube, which took him half an hour every day, not including the walk to the station from his new building. Work was the same as ever, and Phil quickly slipped back into his routine, monitoring tests, writing reports, analysing data.

 

Often he’d get lost in his project, and would look up from the incubator he’d been staring into to find that hours had slipped by, and that all his co-workers had long since gone home.

 

One such night, on a Friday, he found himself unlocking his front door at ten in the evening. Unsure how he could have lost track of time quite so badly, Phil headed for the balcony at once, bypassing the kitchen in order to let himself switch off as he stood, inhaling the cold night air, leant against his railing as he looked up at the skies above.

 

Sadly, this time there were no stars.

 

“You should get a chair or something.”

 

Phil smirked to himself, his gaze falling from the heavens to the balcony opposite. Dan was sat in his fold-out chair again, the thin trail of smoke spiralling from his hand a telltale sign of what he was holding in it.

 

“I don’t mind leaning here.” Phil told him honestly. “I sit all day.”

 

Dan regarded him curiously. “You do?”

 

Phil nodded. “I work in a lab.”

 

Dan appeared to contemplate this, dragging on the joint in his hand. “So you sit on a stool?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s not very comfy, I’d imagine.”

 

Phil shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t really notice.”

 

“You could get a nice, soft, comfy chair to lounge on your balcony.”

 

Phil laughed, one eyebrow raised. “Like you, you mean?”

 

It was pretty dark, but Phil could still see the smirk form on Dan’s lips. He unfurled himself from the camping chair, standing up. His jumper was different today - grey and shapeless, obscuring the lithe body beneath it.  

 

Dan walked to the railing, holding the joint out for Phil to take. “I don’t sit out here often enough to buy a proper chair.”

 

Phil hesitated before accepting the joint again, wondering if getting into the habit of sharing tokes with his neighbour might be a bad idea. In the end, however, he couldn’t be bothered to debate the pros and cons. He took the rollie from Dan, bringing it to his lips.

 

“Well maybe you will now that you’ve got a fun new neighbour,” Phil quipped, smiling at him.

 

He inhaled, allowing the silvery mist to seep across the front of his mind, blurring the most acute of his concerns.

 

Dan snorted with laughter. “I think it’s a bit early in our friendship for me to be buying furniture for us, Phil.”

 

Phil chuckled. “Give it time.”

 

*

 

The first time Phil saw Dan in the daylight was the following afternoon. It was a Saturday, and Phil spent the morning wandering around his new neighbourhood. He ducked into a cutesy cafe for a cappuccino and a croissant - he never usually had time for breakfast - and then spent half an hour or so wandering through a plant shop, gazing in admiration at the overflowing displays.

 

He purchased some tiny cacti, then picked up a few smallish plant pots, along with soil, a hanging basket, and several packets of seeds.

 

After he’d hauled his spoils up the three flights of stairs to his flat, he was pretty exhausted. It was tempting to stop there, to switch on some _Stranger Things_ and veg out on the sofa for the rest of the day, but Phil rarely got time off these days, so he refused to let himself waste it.

 

He made a cup of coffee, then brought the pots, plants and soil out to the balcony, and got stuck in. It was tiring work, and messy, but the cool, squidgy soil felt nice against his hands. He dug small holes with his fingertips and tucked the seeds in with the utmost care.  Lobelia, passion flowers, anemones and pansies in one pot. Cherry tomatoes, chilli plants, mint and lavender in another.

 

He filled one larger pot entirely with sunflower seeds.

 

Hours must have slipped by, but Phil was too busy with his project to notice the day running away without him, as usual. It was only when he sensed eyes on him that he finally paused, glancing up at the balcony opposite.

 

Dan was leant against the railing, smiling at him amusedly. “Didn’t have you down as the gardening type.”

 

It took Phil a moment to respond, distracted as he was by the sight of Dan in the daylight. His hair and eyes were both chestnut brown, he noted, feeling a sense of satisfaction at having this information at last. He was wearing a t-shirt today, white with a grey, marbled effect.

 

There was something about him, in the light, that changed him completely from the version Phil had grown used to. Gone were the shadows cast across his face; in their place, a light dusting of caramel freckles. A dimple embedded itself into Dan’s cheek as he smiled, invisible to Phil until now.

 

Phil cursed the darkness for ever hiding it from him. Feeling warm as the realisation of Dan’s profound beauty washed over him, Phil dusted dirt from his hands and stood, reaching for his coffee.

 

“I’m a biology student I’ll have you know.” Phil told him, smiling. “Plants are friends of mine.”

 

“You’re a student?” Dan asked, sounding surprised.

 

Phil took a sip of coffee, then winced in disgust. He made a face, putting the coffee aside, and Dan laughed at him.

 

“Ugh, sorry. I’m always letting drinks go cold.” Phil said, shaking his head. “Anyway yeah, I’m doing my PhD.”

 

Dan’s eyebrows shot up, clearly impressed. “Wow.”

 

Embarrassed, Phil just shrugged at him. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mostly just stare at plants and write things about them.”

 

Dan shook his head, leaning a little further over the railing. “You shouldn’t downplay it, Phil. Getting into a PhD programme is really difficult. It’s impressive.”

 

Phil laughed awkwardly, feeling his cheeks begin to warm. “Thanks.”

 

“Anyway, your balcony is clearly going to benefit from your biological skill.”

 

Phil gazed around at the various pots littering the small space. He wiped the back of his hand over his forehead, sighing. “I hope so.” He gazed up at Dan again, smiling nervously. “If it works out, perhaps my neighbours will benefit too.”

 

Dan chuckled, nodding. He leant an elbow on the railing, placing his chin in his hand. “Is that right? What’ve you planted for us all, Phil?”

 

Phil winked in an attempt to be enigmatic. “It’s a surprise.”

 

Dan rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. Phil opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment, the distinct sound of a door slamming burst out from the depths of Dan’s flat.

 

Immediately, the smile was wiped clean off of Dan’s face. He turned around, eyes widening, and straightened up.

 

“I’ve gotta go,” Dan said quickly, shooting a brief look of apology Phil’s way. “Sorry. See you later.”

 

Phil could only stare, perplexed, as Dan scurried back into his apartment, shutting the double doors firmly behind him.

 

*

 

It was late evening by the time Dan re-emerged, and Phil was sweeping the soil he’d spilled into a dustpan. His miniature garden was far from completed, but he was too tired to do any more to it today.

 

When Dan’s door opened, he looked up in surprise, having resigned himself to the idea that Dan would not be back out here again for some time.

 

In Dan’s hand was a cup of coffee; he walked up to the railing, looking nervous, and held it out towards Phil.

 

Phil blinked at the mug, not comprehending.

 

“This is my way of apologising for being rude earlier.” Dan explained.

 

The steam from the mug rose into the air, catching in Phil’s nostrils. It smelled rich and strong, unlike the watery, instant stuff Phil had in his cupboard inside.

 

Phil stood slowly, taking the mug from Dan’s hand, partly because he was worried Dan might burn himself on it.

 

“You made me coffee?”

 

“Yeah. You left yours to go cold earlier.”

 

Something warm and glowing pulsated in Phil’s belly. What did it mean, that Dan was this attentive to his actions? Was there some hidden meaning behind the incredibly sweet gesture of making him coffee, or was this just Dan’s peculiar way?

 

He brought the mug to his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled the fragrant, delicious aroma.

 

Typically, Phil would not drink coffee this late. He’d be too afraid of screwing up his sleeping pattern, and not being able to regulate it in time for work on Monday. His experiments required concentration and care; it was vital that Phil be alert for the whole working day.

 

But Dan had made this specially for him. Besides, it was a Saturday. So Phil sipped appreciatively, not even minding that there was no milk or sugar. Good coffee tended not to need it, anyway.

 

When he looked up again from his mug, he noticed Dan had leant forward on his railing, head nestled in the crook of one elbow, bowed forwards into it.

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

Dan raised his head a little, propping his chin on his forearm. He’d slipped on a hoodie since Phil had last seen him.

 

“Not really.” Dan replied.

 

Stuck for what to say, Phil just pressed himself against the rail in an attempt to get closer. He moulded his expression into an appropriate one of concern. “Do you wanna talk to me about it?”

 

Dan regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “I’ll just bum you out, but thanks.”

 

Despite the curiosity eating him alive, Phil left it at that, not wanting to probe. He barely knew Dan, after all. “You keep your curtains drawn a lot.”

 

Dan snorted. “And you leave your doors wide open twenty-four seven.”

 

“I like the fresh air!” Phil said defensively, taking another sip of coffee.

 

“Burglars like it too.”

 

“You can keep an eye on things for me when I’m not here, right?” Phil asked, giggling.

 

Dan straightened up, rolling his eyes. “So I’m your watchdog now?”

 

“Got anything better to do with your days?”

 

For some reason, this question, meant as a joke, seemed to change Dan’s mood somewhat. His smile disappeared, and he wrapped his arms around his middle, sighing heavily.

 

“I didn’t mean-”

 

“Forget it.” Dan interrupted.

 

A silence hung, uncomfortable and tight, in the air between them.

 

“I’m gonna go to bed.” Dan said eventually, sounding awkward.

 

Phil’s chest ached, wishing he could take back his jokey comment, even if he didn’t understand quite what the issue was.

 

“Okay,” Phil answered, not sure what else to say. “Do you want your mug back?”

 

Dan gazed at Phil for a drawn out second, then smiled. “Nah. Drink your coffee. I’ll get it back some other time.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’ve got more than one mug, Phil.” Dan said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

 

Phil smiled back, glad that the awkward atmosphere seemed to be dissipating. “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

 

“Night.” Dan replied, hesitating for a second before turning and ducking back into his flat.

 

* * *

 

 

Dan didn’t come out onto the balcony on Sunday, but Phil could hear voices wafting over nonetheless.

 

From the sounds of things, Dan was having an argument. The voices were indistinct, but raised and aggressive. Phil tried to concentrate on his task of fixing the planted pots to the railing of his balcony, but after a while it just felt like he was prying.

 

He decided to leave the gardening for the time being, and spent the rest of his weekend catching up with _Stranger Things_.

 

* * *

 

 

On Tuesday evening, Phil found Dan sitting in his camp chair again. He was scrolling through his phone, concentrating hard on something, and didn’t notice Phil stepping out.

 

“Watching for burglars climbing in through my balcony doors?”

 

Dan looked up, already smiling. “Supervising your plant-pals, actually.”

 

He locked his phone, shifting a bit on his seat.

 

“How was your day?” Phil asked, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

 

“Dull.” Dan answered. “And you?”

 

“Pretty good, actually. I managed to get a sea anemone to thrive in a humidified container without submersion.”

 

Dan raised an eyebrow, nodding. “I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds cool.”

 

“Here,” Phil said brightly, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll show you.”

 

He opened his camera roll, heart racing a little as his brain caught up with his movements. Dan surely wouldn’t care about seeing his boring science experiments. But when Phil found the photo he took earlier this afternoon, he glanced up at Dan to find him smiling widely.

 

In what was probably an idiotic move, Phil leaned as far as he could over the railing, extending the hand holding his phone out towards Dan. It reached, just about, and Dan took it from him carefully, their fingers brushing for the most fleeting of seconds.

 

An electric shiver ran through Phil as he retracted his own hand, realising with some awe that he’d never touched Dan before this point.

 

“Phil…” Dan whispered, staring down at the phone in his hand. “This is… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this. You created it?”

 

Phil nodded, the shyness engulfing him now. Dan looked so mesmerised; it was a little disconcerting. He’d only wanted to show him the pretty colours and shapes; what if Dan thought he might be trying to boast about his scientific prowess?

 

The photo he’d found for Dan to see was of his latest botanical experiment. Encased in an enormous large glass orb, Phil had been growing a variety of plants from a multitude of habitats. The orb was carefully regulated in its climate, humidity, moisture levels and light exposure; as the plants thrived or struggled, Phil meticulously recorded the results in order to keep track of how each species preferred its conditions.

 

His ultimate goal was to construct a self-regulating atmosphere within the orb, through which the sensitive scientific equipment could monitor and change the temperament according to each plant’s requirements.

 

In other words, Phil was trying to defy God by creating a mini-world wherein plants from all backgrounds could thrive in one place.

 

So far, it was working pretty well. The plants sometimes died on him, as expected, but most of the time Phil was careful enough to notice any changes in their behaviour that he could change the settings of the orb before disaster struck.

 

“How have you got sea anemones in here?” Dan asked, baffled as he used his thumb and forefinger to zoom in on the image. “There’s no water! And there are cacti too! And what’s that, a frickin’ snowdrop? Phil, this is insane.”

 

“It’s all to do with the humidity levels and… other boring stuff.” Phil half-explained, shrugging.

 

Dan snorted. “Okay, I think you need to reevaluate your definition of boring.”

 

Phil smiled, feeling a warmth spread into his cheeks. “It’s just my job.”

 

Dan shook his head, marvelling still. “This is like… the ultimate terrarium.”

 

“Hah, yeah! It is basically a big terrarium.”

 

“I’ve always wanted a terrarium.” Dan said wistfully, still staring at the image.

 

“What’s stopping you?” Phil asked, and Dan sighed, not answering.

 

Dan’s fingers tapped against Phil’s phone screen, making him panic. Surely he wouldn’t swipe through the rest of Phil’s photos without asking?

 

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Phil asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

Dan smirked, not looking up yet. His fingers continued to dance against the screen. “Just in case you need to check whether there have been any burglars.”

 

He locked the phone then, leaning over his railing to hand it back to Phil.

 

By the time Phil had retrieved it, entered his passcode, clicked through his open apps, found the number Dan had typed into his contacts, and registered what that meant, Dan had already retreated back into his flat.

 

* * *

 

 

The following morning, very early, Phil was watering the as-yet unsprouted seeds of his sunflower pot, when Dan’s doors opened. He looked up in shock, about to call out a teasing: ‘so, this is what the day looks like before twelve!’, but the words caught in his mouth.

 

The man exiting Dan’s apartment was not a gangly, awkward twenty-something. Instead, stood on Dan’s balcony as if he belonged there, was an older gentleman. He had a retreating hairline, greying at the temples, and a scruff of beard on his chin. His eyes, like Dan’s, were chocolate brown, but they lacked the same glimmer of mischief.

 

He noticed Phil almost at once, fixing him with a hard, assessing gaze. Tiny peach watering can in one hand, Phil froze under the unexpected attention, feeling stunned. He lifted his other hand in a semi-wave, trying to be friendly to this stranger.

 

He half-wondered, as the man continued to stare coldly, blankly, towards him, whether he ought to be calling the police instead of attempting to befriend him. After all, didn’t Dan say a few days ago that he lived alone?

 

Before Phil’s half-awake mind could stir itself into a decision, the man in question turned from him, vanishing back inside and drawing the curtains tightly.

 

Left staring in a state of confusion, Phil finished up watering the plants, and left for work.

 

His phone itched in his pocket, urging him to just text Dan and ask, but he resisted. He still barely knew Dan, after all. Texting him out of the blue for the first time to ask a nosey-neighbour question wasn’t the way he wanted things to go.

 

So, he tried to forget about it.

 

* * *

 

 

Dan didn’t emerge again until Friday night.

 

Again, there was a joint in his hand, and if Phil wasn’t mistaken, there was the burnt out stub of another, still slightly smoking, at Dan’s feet.

 

“No camping chair today?” Phil asked, shrugging on the thick hoodie he’d grabbed off a nearby chair as he came in.

 

Dan took a deep inhale, then blew it out slowly. “Decided to try it your way.”

 

“And?”

 

“I’m undecided.” Dan said after a moment of consideration. “I’ll get back to you.”

 

“Please do.”

 

Dan held the joint out for Phil, who took it readily. This had been a long week.

 

“How was work?” Dan asked him, watching carefully as Phil dragged on the rollie.

 

Phil nodded, holding the lungful of smoke in for a few seconds before exhaling. “Good. Long.”

 

He handed the joint back to Dan, but he shook his head. “Keep it. I’m so stoned.”

 

Phil considered this statement, trying not to be too obvious as he searched Dan’s face for signs of this.

 

“Bad day?” Phil asked him, joking a little.

 

He wasn’t sure what Dan did all day, but from the way he spoke, Phil was pretty certain he rarely left his flat.

 

“The worst.” Dan groaned unexpectedly, once again leaning forwards to place his forehead against his forearm where it rested on the railing.

 

“Oh,” Phil said, surprised. He took a drag of the joint, unsure what to do. “What happened?”

 

He didn’t expect Dan to respond, honestly.

 

“I had a fight with my Dad.” Dan said after a moment, sounding hesitant. “I mean, I fight with him all the time, but it was particularly bad today.”

 

Phil nodded, silently connecting the dots between this statement and the man he saw on Dan’s balcony on Wednesday.

 

“What about?”

 

Dan sighed in frustration, lifting his head from his arm. “Oh y’know, the usual. He thinks I’m wasting my life, throwing my youth away. I should get a job, get over my depression, stop wallowing in misery and worrying my family.”

 

Phil stared at him, a speck of ash falling from the forgotten joint in his fingers. He tried to think of some kind of response, but his brain was already misting over, and he probably wouldn’t have known what to say even if he were more alert.

 

“Sorry,” Dan said after a while. “That was a lot of information to get about me in one go.”

 

Phil nodded, dragging again on the joint. “I’m sorry.”

 

“What’re _you_ sorry for?”

 

“It just sounds rough.” Phil said, shrugging. “I’m sorry for you, that you’re going through that right now.”

 

It was hardly the most eloquent response, but Dan seemed to consider it as seriously as if Phil had recited a bible verse. He gazed out at Phil, puppy-like, as he tilted his head to one side.

 

“Thanks.” Dan said at last. A pause emerged, bubbling between them. Phil stubbed out the joint. “You didn’t text me.”

 

Phil chuckled. “Sorry. I didn’t know what to say.”

 

“So send me emojis.” Dan said, smiling tiredly. “Or pictures. Pictures would be even better.”

 

“Pictures of what?”

 

Dan shrugged. “I dunno. Anything. Your lunch. A cool dog on the tube. All the pretty plants in your lab.”

 

“Don’t encourage me.” Phil laughed, leaning forwards instinctively. “That could get really annoying for you.”

 

“Phil, most days I barely even make it out of bed.” Dan told him, sounding painfully sincere. “I doubt you will be a nuisance.”

 

Phil smiled at him. “Okay.”

 

“Don’t let me down.” Dan warned him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I expect at least two pictures tomorrow.”

 

Phil laughed, blushing a little once again. “Do I get pictures in return?”

 

“Of me in bed?” Dan asked, grinning cheekily. “Sure.”  

 

* * *

 

 

The first photo he sent to Dan was of a mouse in his kitchen.

 

He captioned it ‘a friend’, then followed it up with a photo of some cheese crumbs he left for it after it had scurried away.

 

 **Dan**  
???  
No phil, not friend!  
Call the exterminator!!

 

 **Phil  
** :(  
I dont murder my friends

 

 **Dan**  
You’re gonna end up with  
a rat baby infestation

 

 **Phil**  
:)  
Many friend!

 

Phil heard the distinct sound of a door opening outside, and then a voice called: “Rodents are not friends!”

 

Phil giggled to himself, and finished preparing his lunch. He left some breadcrumbs out for Susan (the mouse), obviously.

 

* * *

 

 

On Sunday, at around eight in the evening, Dan texted him a photo. Eager, and a little nervous to see what it might be, Phil almost dropped his phone in the bath in which he was sat as he unlocked it, but managed to hang on somehow.

 

The photo was of what appeared to be Dan’s laptop. It was nestled in the dark grey plaid covers of a bed, as though the person taking the photo were lying under them as they browsed. Netflix was open on the screen, paused on an episode of _Stranger Things_. This was exciting to Phil, who didn’t have anyone else in his life that he could discuss the show with.

 

He was about to text Dan back asking his opinions, but stopped, the other tab open on Dan’s browser catching his eye. He squinted at it, sure he must have misread, and then snorted, sitting up a little.

 

 **Phil**  
Bee movie yaoi?

 

 **Dan**  
Whoops. Forgot to close my tab (:

 

Phil tilted his head back, wetting the back of his skull as he laughed.

 

 **Phil**  
Np, i’ll send u some links so  
u dont have to browse  
google like an animal

 

 **Dan**  
My hero

 

 **Phil**  
Btw i have at least a  
hundred stranger things  
questions to ask u

 

 **Dan**  
Haha i knew you’d like tht  
show. Ask away.

 

 **Phil**  
Meet on the balcony in ten?

 

 **Dan**  
Make it eleven ;)

 

* * *

 

Over the next couple of weeks, they texted a lot. As promised, Phil sent at least two photos per day, and Dan would always reply in kind. 

 

Dan tended to text photos of the plants on Phil’s balcony, informing him of ‘exciting updates’ such as the sunflowers budding, or the cherry tomatoes being plucked from their stems by a curious crow. In contrast, Phil usually sent Dan photos of the experiment he was working on, as that was almost always the most interesting thing about his day. The plants Phil grew in his lab were even more colourful and exotic than anything fighting against the London autumnal air on his balcony, so Dan drank up every photo with an enthusiasm that Phil couldn’t get used to. 

 

No matter how mundane the subject of the image seemed to Phil, who literally stared at it all day long, Dan never failed to be completely awestruck. He’d send long, rambling responses filled with :o emojis, detailing his thoughts about the intricate patterns and composition of the floral arrangements.  

 

 **Dan**  
Superb juxtaposition of the   
heather against the pansies  
wow. That violet and lilac  
action is arousing me big   
time :o

 

 

Phil laughed and went along with it each time, choosing not to mention that he almost never considered the aesthetics of the experiment before setting it up. He was glad that Dan managed to glean some delight from his random spray of various botanical projects.

 

One Friday, PJ wandered over to Phil’s bench, as he often did when he was bored of whatever experiment he was currently working on, and began poking around with Phil’s orbs and vials.

 

“Can I help you?” Phil asked him, trying to concentrate on filling in his 12pm report on the pansies he was currently nursing.

 

“I’m bored.” PJ sighed, tapping on the glass of the pansy enclosure.

 

Phil looked up, irritated, and batted his hand away. “Do some work, then.”

 

“It’s lunchtime.” PJ told him, perking up a little. “Come get some lunch with me.”

 

Phil shook his head distractedly, squinting at the pansies. “Can’t. Busy.”

 

PJ groaned, head tipping backwards. “You’re always busy. You shouldn’t work through lunch.”

 

“But the pansies-”

 

“The pansies can fucking wait, Phil.” PJ interrupted, seizing Phil’s wrist so fast that he dropped the pen he was holding.

 

“Wait!” Phil exclaimed as he was yanked from his stool. “They need monitoring!”

 

PJ sighed in frustration, reaching across Phil’s workbench to switch on the small camera he’d set up so that the experiments could be recorded overnight.

 

“There!” PJ said, hauling Phil across the lab towards the door. “Now nothing will be missed. Come on, food time.”

 

Resigned to PJ’s stubborn attitude, Phil sighed, letting himself be taken.

 

They found a Starbucks nearby, and admittedly, Phil was grateful for the sugary coffee he was able to sit down with, along with the plush, comfortable sofa. Perhaps Dan had been right when he’d mentioned the lab stools must be uncomfortable. Phil’s butt had never felt more taken care of, suddenly.

 

“What’s up with you?” PJ asked, breaking through Phil’s thoughts.

 

He realised, with moderate embarrassment, that he’d been silently stirring his caramel macchiato, smiling dazedly, for around a minute now while PJ stared.

 

He composed himself quickly, lifting the coffee to his lips. “Sorry. I think I’m just tired today.”

 

PJ regarded him with a squint. “No, that’s not it.”

 

Phil shrugged, feeling himself blush without knowing why. He opened his mouth to deny knowledge of what PJ was talking about, but at that second, his phone pinged.

 

He dived for it eagerly, feeling his heart do a little stutter.

 

 **Dan**  
Kill me pls

 

 **Phil**  
Sure. I’ll chuck a grenade  
through your balcony window  
after work :)

 

 **Dan**  
Nope that’s too far away come  
now

 

 **Phil**  
Why so eager for death today?

 

“Who’re you texting, Phil?

 

PJ’s voice had a knowing, amused lilt to it. Phil glanced up at him, catching his eye. He put his phone down, blushing harder.

 

“Nobody.” He answered, retrieving his coffee. “I mean, my neighbour.”

 

“Your neighbour?”

 

Phil nodded, mind racing to think of a way to change the subject. His phone pinged again, and Phil forced himself to leave it unanswered on the table.

 

“You just moved, right?” PJ asked, an air of suspicion flavouring his expression.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you’ve got a new neighbour,” PJ said, nodding. He sipped some of his coffee. “A cute neighbour?”

 

Phil spluttered, trying to give the impression that he found the question absurd; unfortunately, his crimson cheeks were answering to the contrary.

 

“He’s just…” Phil floundered. “He lives across from me. Our balconies face each other. And he’s, y’know, nice. We’re friends.”

 

His phone pinged a second time, and Phil gnawed his lip, glancing at it. He flexed his fingers at his side, trying to resist the urge to look at it.

 

PJ laughed at him, picking up his sandwich. “You’re so transparent, Phil.”

 

Phil sent him a withering look, reaching for his phone again. He’d resisted long enough.

 

 **Dan**  
My dad’s here.

 

Phil’s heart sank. That was not good news.

 

Over time, Phil had been able to drag a few more bits of information out of Dan about his mysterious father. From what he could gather of the situation, Dan’s Dad was the owner of the flat, and was letting Dan live there on his own. Whilst this seemed like a nice, generous offer on the surface, Phil was getting the picture that it came with a huge pile of guilt-tripping, angry ‘what are you doing with your life’ lectures, unexpected drop-ins, and a lot of general unpleasantness.

 

Dan was depressed. He’d mentioned it a few times, and from the sounds of things, it was pretty bad. Phil felt for him, and tried to be as much of a calm, happy presence in his life as he could, as that’s what Dan needed.

 

He definitely did not need constant shouting matches with what sounded like a misinformed, aggressive father who seemed to care more about forcing Dan to make money by any means possible than actually getting him the help he needed.

 

 **Dan**  
Can you send me flower photos  
I am struggling

 

 **Phil**  
Im at lunch with my coworker atm  
I will as soon as I get back x

 

 **Dan**  
:( ok ty x

 

The sympathy slicing through Phil’s core must have been evident in his face, because when Phil placed his phone down, PJ looked concerned.

 

“Everything ok?”

 

Phil sighed. “Not really. My neighbour - Dan - he’s going through a rough time.”

 

“Oh,” PJ said, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “Sorry mate. That sucks.”

 

Phil shrugged, sipping more caramelly coffee. “I wish I could think of something to cheer him up, y’know?”

 

PJ nodded, head tilting thoughtfully. “Well, what makes him happy?”

 

“I text him photos of pretty plants.” Phil said, shrugging. “I think that makes him happy. But I’m already doing that.”

 

“Maybe you could give him a plant.” PJ suggested. “Didn’t you say you just set up a whole garden on your balcony?”

 

“I thought about that once.” Phil admitted, wondering if he should let on quite how often he thinks about Dan, and all the things he could do for Dan, and what Dan’s doing at any point in the day. “But he told me a while ago he’d never be able to look after a plant of his own. He said he would love it, and he wouldn't mean to, but he'd let it die, and it would only make him sadder.”

 

Phil hated to agree with him on this, but as an expert in the area, he was pretty sure Dan was right. The guy never even opened his curtains to let light into his flat. Granted, Phil hasn’t really seen inside, but he’d bet that Dan’s apartment was not exactly a houseplant-friendly environment.

 

PJ snorted with laughter unexpectedly. Phil stared at him in surprise.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just funny.” PJ said, draining the last of his americano.

 

“What’s funny?”

 

“Kismet.” PJ said, smiling, “You’re shaped for one another.”

 

“What are you on about, Peej?” Phil asked, perplexed. 

 

PJ sighed, rolling his eyes. “So we’ve got him, having this inhospitable environment, but still wishing he could have a plant of his own, right?”

 

“Uh huh...”

 

“And then we have you, perhaps the only person in the world researching around how to keep plants thriving in adverse conditions.”

 

“Right, I suppose-”

 

PJ made a sweeping gesture with his hand to highlight his incredulity. “And you just decided to move in _opposite_ him, almost on a whim? I mean, did he wish on a star for you, or something?”

 

“Well...” Phil protested, feeling a rush of fizzy, embarrassed unsurety pouring over him. “I mean, I wouldn’t say anything so dramatic-” 

 

PJ raised an eyebrow. “Phil, look me in the eye and tell me you don't hold the perfect solution to this problem.”

 

Phil blushed, shrugging. He didn’t manage to meet PJ’s eye. PJ laughed the whole walk back to the lab.

 

* * *

 

 

So, for two days, Phil worked on the conundrum of how to give Dan a plant despite the fact he’d almost certainly neglect it.

 

After two trips to the lab, along with a weekend’s worth of tinkering, Phil finally had something he felt would work. On Sunday evening, he walked out onto his balcony, heart racing with nerves. His chilli plant had started to produce some small, still-green chillis, so he plucked one off, and threw it at the glass doors of Dan’s balcony.

 

It took a minute or so, but eventually, a light flicked on inside, and then Dan’s face poked around the curtain. Upon seeing Phil, Dan unlocked the doors immediately, stepping out into the frigid air.

 

He had on nothing but boxers and a baggy white jumper, which Phil was not expecting. He blushed at the sight of Dan’s bare, shapely legs. He had thick, lovely thighs that Phil couldn’t help imagining beneath his hands. How would that pale, sparsely haired skin look covered in bite marks and bruises, he wondered?

 

He dragged his eyes away, mortified by how quickly his mind had descended into the gutter. He was thankful that the darkness was probably hiding the redness of his cheeks. 

 

 

“Where’ve you been, then?” Dan asked, carefully picking his way over to the railing. He had no shoes on, just some grey socks.

 

Dan’s arms wrapped around his middle, the sleeves covering his hands. As he got closer, Phil could hear the telltale sound of his teeth chattering.

 

“Sorry,” Phil said, meaning it sincerely. “I was busy with something.”

 

“All weekend?” Dan asked.

 

He sounded annoyed; Phil felt a little blindsided by it.

 

“Um, yeah,” Phil said apologetically. “It took longer than expected.”

 

“You didn’t even answer my texts.”

 

Now, Dan just sounded miserable. There was something awkward about him, about the way he moved and spoke, like they’d travelled back in time to the first night they met.

 

It was only as he noticed this distinct difference in Dan’s behaviour that Phil realised how much more comfortable Dan had become around him. He rarely ever smoked weed anymore either, and though Phil hadn’t thought much about it before now, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe this was because Dan no longer felt the need for narcotics in order to relax out here.

 

“Sorry,” Phil said again, wincing as his epiphany dawned. “I don’t know where my phone is, to be honest. I’ve been pretty wrapped up in… something.”

 

Dan sighed, winding his arms around his waist a little tighter. He looked so forlorn all of a sudden, as though he’d shrunk two sizes. He had his head turned away a bit, but there was a glisten in his eye where the moonlight caught it.

 

Dan sniffed once, scrubbing briefly at his nose. “‘S cool.”

 

“Dan… I didn’t-”

 

“Forget it.” Dan said quickly, wiping at his eye. “It was stupid of me, anyway.”

 

“What was?”

 

Dan shrugged, and Phil felt a familiar well of despair rising within his chest. “Please tell me.”

 

Dan sighed, glancing at Phil once before dragging his eyes away. He brought his fingers to his mouth, chewing the nails. He didn’t seem to notice or care that they were all bitten back to their beds.

 

“Look, Phil…” Dan began, shoulders tensing. “I’m not a good choice for a friend.”

 

Phil frowned, disliking that comment immensely. “Well, that's not for you to say. And I disagree, anyway.”

 

Dan snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m serious. I’m… broken. Messed up, whatever you want to call it.”

 

“I don’t think that about you.”

 

“It’s not a matter of opinion.” Dan told him, bitterly. “I’ve had doctors write it into their reports. I’ve had psychiatrists ‘diagnose’ me a hundred times over. I have a cupboard full of happy pills and calm pills and stabilising pills. I’m a huge fucking mess of depression and anxiety and abandonment issues and self-destructive tendencies.”

 

Phil listened intently, hating that Dan had such a low opinion of himself, but also not wanting to interrupt him while he was venting. He wished he could draw Dan into a hug, but alas - the void between them was too literal for something like that.

 

“I get clingy.” Dan said, sounding embarrassed. “I don’t mean to. But I’m really fucking lonely, Phil, and I don’t get many people willing to… put up with me.”

 

“I’ll put up with you.” Phil told him gently, offering a kind smile.

 

Dan looked up at him, a tortured look in his eyes. “I know you want to. That’s kind of the problem.”

 

Phil frowned. “I don’t understand.”

 

“You’re really sweet for… trying to be my friend.” Dan told him slowly, his eyes getting all glisteny again. “Getting a text from you can honestly lift me out of a dark place. And when I see you out here, and I get to talk to you, even for a little while… it keeps me going sometimes. But I’m getting too dependent on it. It’s gotten to the point where my whole day revolves around talking to you, because it’s pretty much the only thing that makes me happy.”

 

Phil didn’t know what to say. Something bubbly and light shimmered through his body, as if Dan had injected sweet, fruity champagne straight into his bloodstream. These things that Dan was saying seemed so lovely; Phil couldn’t be prouder that he, somehow, had managed to be a light in Dan’s darkness just by… existing.

 

But there was something wrong, too. A fly in the flute of sparkling wine, spoiling it. Dan still looked so miserable, and Phil didn’t understand why.

 

“This weekend was… rough.” Dan told him, chewing another nail. “And when I couldn’t talk to you… couldn’t even get hold of you...”

 

Dan shook his head, and Phil’s heart sank to his knees. “Oh, God, Dan I’m sorry. I didn’t know-”

 

“No,” Dan interrupted. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what I’m saying. It’s not your responsibility to keep my spirits up. That’s not fair on you. I mean, we barely know each other. I’ve never even seen you anywhere but here.”

 

“We could-”

 

Dan shook his head, silencing Phil at once. “Just forget about me. Delete me from your phone, stop sending me cute selfies and pictures of pretty flowers. Let’s just go back to the start, right? I’m your weird recluse neighbour. You’re the cute guy I stare at through my curtains sometimes and wish I could talk to. Nothing else.”

 

Phil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How had this conversation veered so dramatically downwards, and so fast? He struggled for words, trying to imagine what he might be able to say to change Dan’s mind.

 

“But… I like you.” Phil said eventually, sounding pathetic even to himself.

 

Dan smiled sadly at him. “Trust me, that wouldn’t have lasted long.”

 

Phil considered clambering up on his railing, attempting to leap across to Dan’s balcony in order to beg him to reconsider. Instead, his fear seized him in a paralysis, and he could only watch, helpless, as Dan edged away from the railing, gave Phil one last sad smile, and slipped back inside.

 

* * *

 

 

The sad piano music continued for three days straight. Phil thought hard about purchasing some earplugs, but he never did.

 

It might have been preventing him from getting enough sleep, and maybe his pansies suffered as a result - but the music was pretty. Besides, it was almost the only thing of Dan he had left, at that point.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Phil**  
I accidentally murdered my  
pansies today :(

 

 **Phil**  
I think they miss me taking  
photos of them to send to  
you. They’re camera whores.

 

 **Phil**  
*They WERE camera whores.  
RIP.

 

_This number cannot be reached any longer._

 

* * *

 

 

“So you never even got to give him his present?” PJ asked.

 

Phil shook his head glumly, staring at the gift in his hands.

 

“That’s too bad.” PJ told him, sounding sympathetic. “He would have really loved that.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Come on, Phil. You know it too.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _Are you sure you wish to purchase_ **Retractable Ladder** _for £29.99?_

 

Phil had been staring at this question for around thirty minutes. He sighed, took a sip of his beer, and pressed ‘yes’.

 

Oh well, Dan could hate him forever if he wanted. At least he would have tried.

 

* * *

 

 

Dan’s Saturday started pretty typically.

 

He woke up at twelve. He lay motionless in bed until one. Hunger forced him into the kitchen, where he made himself a nutritious breakfast of licorice allsorts, the end of an almost stale baguette, and a handful of coco pops.

 

(He had always hated licorice allsorts, and the taste lingered on his tongue, making him feel queasy.)

 

He scrolled through Tumblr for another hour, then dragged his exhausted body into the shower. He stayed in there far too long under the pleasant, warm drizzle, oblivious to the fact that while the water cascaded over his body, his ‘typical’ Saturday veered into unknown waters.

 

Dan stepped out of the shower and immediately put back on the same clothes he’d been wearing all day. Harem pants with a low swinging crotch, and a dark grey cotton tee in possibly the softest material known to man.

 

He was on his way back towards the bed, which was exactly as messy as he’d left it, when he noticed something moving on his balcony.

 

Sure it must be a burglar, Dan’s heart stopped, and he froze in alarm. He tried to remember where his phone was, and eventually concluded he must have left it in the bathroom. Not that he’d know who to call.

 

He’d really prefer not to ring his father for assistance, as that’d be too humiliating. He could hear his Dad’s voice now:

 

_‘Can’t even drag your sorry ass out of bed to shoo off a fucking burglar! What kind of man can’t defend his own home, Dan?!’_

 

Dan grimaced, shoving the voice into the back of his mind, as ever.

 

He crept forwards, wondering if perhaps he could alert Phil to the presence of an intruder somehow; his doors were always open, after all. But then, of course, Phil hadn’t spoken to him since…

 

 _‘Since you told him to fuck off, pretty much.’_ Dan’s Dad’s voice supplies helpfully. _‘Way to go yet again, son. Another win. Scaring off the one decent, intelligent friend you’ve made in years.’_

 

“Shut up,” Dan hissed to nobody.

 

He could still barely see anything through the slit between his curtains, but there was definite movement out there.

 

Feeling like he might faint from anxiety, Dan grabbed the nearest object he could see (a book of sheet music) and inched towards the doors. He hovered behind them, hidden by his curtains, feeling sick with nerves.

 

_‘Stop being such a pussy, Daniel!’_

 

“Fuck _off_ , Dad.”

 

After five minutes of dithering, Dan realised that he’d just have to go for it. His phone was nowhere to be seen, and there was nobody coming to help. If he didn’t do something, he’d be the sad, sorry victim of a home invasion, having to explain to police that - mortifyingly - he’d been ‘too depressed’ to defend himself.

 

Taking an enormous breath in, Dan ripped open the curtains, pulled the double doors open, and raised the book high above his head. He tried to appear menacing and angry, gritting his teeth as he stepped out towards what was surely about to be his demise.

 

“Oh, crap!”

 

“Get the fuck off my-” Dan stopped mid-sentence, trying to register the sight before his eyes. “Phil?”

 

“Yes, Dan, it’s just me- please don’t hit me with that.”

 

Dan blinked at him, uncomprehending, and then remembered the large book in his hands. Slowly, he lowered the object, and Phil relaxed a little.

 

“You’re on my balcony.” Dan said, completely bemused.

 

This was weird. It felt like a dream, having Phil this close. There had always been an unbridgeable gap between them, slicing their lives apart. It’d always seemed like the space between their balconies was unbridgeable.

 

But Phil was stood right there, tangible and present in his thick-rimmed black glasses and bright yellow hoodie. It had the face of Jake from Adventure Time in the centre, Dan noticed, sort of wanting to smile.

 

“Um, yeah. I know it’s weird.” Phil said after a moment. “Sorry?”

 

“..How?”

 

Phil grimaced, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Um, the uh… the ladder.”

 

He pointed to the railing of the balcony, on top of which, Dan noticed, a ladder was resting, somewhat precariously. It stretched across from Phil’s balcony, over the enormous drop, to Dan’s.

 

Dan stared at it, his mouth falling open. “Don’t tell me you climbed across.”

 

Phil swallowed, neither confirming nor denying.

 

A silence fell between them; Dan genuinely could not think of a word to say.

 

“I know you don’t want to see me anymore.” Phil said, sounding pained. Dan shut his eyes, feeling the hurt little voice slice straight through his heart. “But I made you this. I thought it might… be nice to have it around. I dunno. I was just… trying to help.”

 

Dan frowned in confusion. “What’re you on about?”

 

Phil gestured to a space above Dan’s head. Perplexed, Dan tilted his head upwards, and gasped.

 

Above him, suspended by thin silver chains attached to a jutting piece of wood in the building wall, was an orb. It looked just like the ones Phil used to send him photos of, back when he still did that.

 

It was bigger than Dan’s head, and beautiful inside and out. Inside, a layer of rich, dark soil coated the very bottom, above which a layer of duck egg blue pebbles rested, peppered with pieces of coloured sea glass.

 

Flowers, the likes of which Dan had never seen, pushed up from these layers, extending tall and bright, winding around each other. Their hues ranged from ultraviolet to soft, powder blue, with hints of lime and forest greens here and there. Other plants had been included in the array, and Dan recognised some that he’d expressed his particular fondness for when Phil had shown him photos.

 

Ferns.

 

Rosemary.

 

Thistles.

 

Heather.

 

The sight of this beautiful orb began to blur, the colours blending together. At first, Dan wasn’t certain why, and then he realised his eyes were stinging with tears. He blinked, letting them fall down his cheeks without caring; he never wanted to look away.

 

“Phil…”

 

“You said you wanted a terrarium once,” Phil explained quickly, sounding a little embarrassed. “I know you think you can’t keep a plant alive, but this is one I’ve made for you, a self-regulating one, like my experiments, so you don’t even need to do anything.”

 

Phil moved a little, coming into Dan’s line of sight as he reached up to spin the orb around slowly, gazing inside with a satisfied smile.

 

“It’s only just been planted, so some of the plants aren’t quite at their best yet, but they’ll grow I swear, and-”

 

Dan’s body moved faster than his mind. He’d never have described himself as a spontaneous person, but he felt as though the last few minutes on this balcony had knocked him so far off orbit  that his mind might have rewired itself entirely.

 

He stumbled forwards, careful not to knock the orb, and fell against Phil’s chest. His arms wound around Phil’s waist, and he gazed straight up into Phil’s round, surprised doe eyes.

 

Dan had never considered that he’d be so _warm_.

 

He felt like standing next to a flickering, marshmallow-melting fire on a deserted beach in the evening at summertime. He felt like a bright, exuberant sun, shedding light on all his mesmerising plants and flowers, encouraging them to bloom and grow.

 

Before Dan could stop himself, he leant in, his lips pushing into Phil’s despite every inch of his anxiety-soaked brain screaming at him that it was a bad idea.

 

Phil’s response was instant, and eager, but in the millisecond before, Dan felt a lifetime slip by, horrified by the surety he was about to face rejection.

 

Instead, Phil kissed him deeply, longingly, like he’d been starved of it for years. Like he’d been waiting for the chance to climb across the gap between them in a death-defying circus stunt and press himself against Dan since the day he moved in.

 

“Thank you,” Dan whispered against Phil’s lips, his arms tightening around Phil’s waist. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

 

Phil leaned away a little, brushing the curls out of Dan’s eyes with a gentle, soft caress. Dan leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering.

 

Phil’s eyes are so, astonishingly blue. He couldn’t tell, when there was still a chasm between them.

 

“I know it doesn’t make everything better.” Phil said. “I know you’re in pain, and that you don’t want me to see it or deal with it. But there’s a problem.”

 

“A problem?” Dan asked, feeling dazed.

 

He was very glad, suddenly, that Phil’s arms were wrapped around him too.

 

“Mhm,” Phil acknowledged, leaning in again. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Dan’s mouth, and Dan felt his knees weaken. “The problem is, I think I’m in love with you.”

 

Dan’s eyes flick open, astonished. “What? Phil, you don’t know me. I know I have rare, sweet flirty conversations with you, but most of the time I’m moody and sad and pathetic-”

 

Phil kissed him again, presumably to shut him up. “I don’t care. I don’t want to spend every day staring at your empty balcony anymore, wishing and waiting for you to emerge so I can spend a stolen moment with you.”

 

“But-”

 

“I want all of you, Dan.” Phil continued. “Every bit. Good and bad. I want to try and make you happy, and I want to hold you when you can’t be.”

 

A tear dripped off Dan’s chin, landing at his feet. “I think I must’ve dreamed you.”

 

Phil smiled, reaching up to brush the moisture from under Dan’s eyes. “Nope, sorry. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

 

Dan laughed. “Can’t get rid of you however hard I try, apparently.”

 

“Exactly,” Phil giggled. “There’s no use trying. I’ll just construct an elaborate scheme to crawl over here again.”

 

“Wait, did you crawl across _holding_ that terrarium?”

 

“Look, you blocked my number, you wouldn’t see me-”

 

“Phil?”

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“I think I love you too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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